


The Fox and the Human

by Scrawlers



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fantasy AU, Kitsune!Lotor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 08:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: Patron gods of abandoned shrines fall dormant, silent and not conscious of the world that has forgotten them. But when a human drops coins in the tribute box of Lotor's shrine for the first time in centuries, he becomes aware of everything once again—that human in particular.





	The Fox and the Human

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a little while ago, but in light of Tumblr being . . . Tumblr, I thought it best to archive everything here.

No one visited the shrine for centuries.

Then one day,  _he_ did.

It was the clatter of the coins in the bottom of the box that first awoke Lotor from his slumber (if it could be called that; existing in an unconscious, incorporeal form for hundreds of years could hardly be called “sleep” by most standards). At first, he hardly recognized it; but as he gained awareness of his rundown, decrepit shrine, overgrown with moss and weeds as it was, he also took notice of the human who had dropped the coins in. Lotor had been dormant for far too long to recognize the uniform the human wore, but though he didn’t look quite like a man yet, he looked too old to be a child. His hair was dark, and in disarray; his eyes were strangely light-colored, and set with determination as he folded his hands and quickly bowed to the shrine before he darted away. Lotor watched him run, and once the human had disappeared beyond the line of the trees and from sight, he materialized for the first time for centuries at the base of his shrine, head cocked to the side.

No one had given him an offering for centuries.

He wondered if the human would come back.

**\- - -**

He did. His visits were irregular and didn’t seem purposeful, but he did return over and over again as the years passed.

The one pattern to the human’s visits were that he seemed to come at about the same time each afternoon. In the beginning, he was running most of the time, casting hurried glances over his shoulder and darting around the trees as if to lose a pursuer. After the fifth or so time of this, Lotor’s curiosity got the better of him; he took his natural form to slip among the trees, trawling along the paths to see if he could catch sight of the human’s pursuers. He didn’t, but as he made his way back to the shrine, the human’s eyes snapped to him, widened at first in surprise and then narrowed in scrutiny. Lotor was careful; he shifted to a different plane so as to be invisible to the human’s eyes, and after a moment, the human turned back and took a seat at the shrine, seemingly content that his eyes had been playing tricks on him.

Most days, the human sat in silence. Some days he drew pictures in a sketchbook he carried with him; other days he fashioned sticks into make-believe swords. Rarely, but increasingly the more days he visited, he talked. He was nearing high school graduation, but he had no idea what to do after. His uncle had a company with a job opening for him, and someone he called Shirogane thought he should apply for JAXA’s programs, but university was a requirement for those—and the human had his doubts about university.

“It just doesn’t feel right,” he said. “Not even for JAXA. I just feel like there’s something I have to do first, but I don’t know what.”

Lotor had no answers for him, and after a time, the human dropped coins into the tribute box and left.

**\- - -**

Months passed. The human’s visits became sparse, and then stopped altogether.

Part of Lotor was unsurprised. His shrine had been untouched for centuries. No one remembered the fox spirit of these unnamed woods; no one had reason to visit them, lest of all the single human who had seemed to discover the shrine by accident. But a lack of surprise wasn’t the same as a lack of disappointment; when several weeks passed when the human did not return, Lotor assumed his natural shape to prowl along the trees, hoping they’d cross paths.

It took two years, but finally they did.

Once more, Lotor kept out of sight. He watched as the human—young man, now—made his way to the shrine. He took a seat on the top step, pulled a small sketchbook out of the pocket of his coat, and began to draw. He drew in silence, and Lotor watched him—invisible—from the trees. Neither one said a word; after an hour of artwork, the human stood, dropped some coins into the tribute box, bowed, and left.

This time, Lotor followed.

**\- - -**

It was no wonder the human had visited the shrine as much as he had. He didn’t live far away.

His apartment complex was a fifteen-minute walk, more or less, from the edge of the trees. From what Lotor could see, he lived on the top floor. Lotor didn’t pursue him any farther; there was no need. He had all the information he needed at the moment.

He returned to his shrine.

**\- - -**

If the human visited the shrine the next day, Lotor wasn’t aware of it. This was because he had chosen to wait in front of the human’s apartment complex—visible, this time, and in the guise of a human himself.

It was a bit awkward; he had gained his shapeshifting ability with his additional tails centuries ago, he thought, but he had never quite put it to use. As a result, he couldn’t be sure he was doing it perfectly. For one thing, the hair he grew was as long and white as his natural fur, no matter how he tried to change the color. He managed brown skin, at least, but his eyes were still blue. And though he was able to manifest human clothing, he had to spare at least some of his concentration keeping his tails out of sight. Ordinarily, Lotor was proud of his tails. Now he thought of them as something of a nuisance.

But once he was suitable, he waited. And when the human returned to his apartment complex he froze, eyes wide as they fixated on Lotor. Lotor smiled, and made his way over; and as he did, the human’s shock faded into a thoughtful look.

“Hello,” Lotor said, and oh, did it feel so  _strange_ to speak with a human mouth. “My name is Lotor. I’m new to the area, and I was wondering if you could perhaps assist me in finding someplace to eat.”

The human stared at him a moment, eyes narrowed just so. Then he asked, “Are you—?”

Lotor tilted his head to the side. “Am I what?”

The human stared at him a moment more before he shook his head. “Never mind. C’mon. There’s a pretty good ramen place in town.” He turned back the way he had came, and after a moment added, “My name’s Keith.”

Lotor smiled, and fell into pace beside him. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Keith.”

**\- - -**

Keith led him to the ramen restaurant, which was thankfully affordable enough thanks to the coins Keith himself had left in Lotor’s tribute box. It only took a bit of cajoling to convince him to stay, and as they ate, Lotor learned about him. Keith, as it happened, was mixed-race (and assumed Lotor was the same); his late father had been Japanese, while his late mother had mixed heritage herself. He lived alone after his parents passed away, with his uncle providing for him financially while he was in school. He had been away at university for the past two years, yet had recently dropped out to return home.

As he finished dismissing his decision to leave college, Keith huffed a laugh and set his chopsticks overtop his ramen bowl. “Sorry,” he said, and before Lotor could ask what for, added, “Don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

Lotor shrugged, and took a sip of his water. “Perhaps I’m a natural listener.”

Keith looked at him askance, yet before Lotor could pierce together what that look meant, he looked away again.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”

**\- - -**

Lotor couldn’t meet with him every day. Some days Keith had work, and others Lotor couldn’t find an excuse. But he found one when he could; he would “accidentally” bump into Keith outside of the apartment building, or on his way home. He was skilled enough at deflecting questions about his own housing situation, and the first time Keith brought Lotor back to his apartment and Lotor was brought face-to-face with Keith’s wolfdog, Nyx, he nearly turned and bolted back in the opposite direction.

“She won’t hurt you,” Keith said, as Nyx crept closer, her ears erect as her nose twitched furiously with her sniffing.

Lotor could feel his tails twitching against his back, thankfully hidden by the coat he had procured for himself. He took another step back, closer to the door. “I . . . believe you,” he said at length, “but I admit I am not the most . . . comfortable around dogs.”

“She’s part wolf,” Keith said, as if that would help. It did not. “Nyx, go lay down.”

Nyx turned her amber eyes to Keith, every fur on her body suggesting she didn’t wish to listen. But after another glance at Lotor, she turned and did as requested, even if she turned her eyes, ears, and nose right back to him once she’d settled by the sofa.

“C’mon,” Keith said, and he gestured for Lotor to follow him. “Sit down. I’ll get you a drink. What do you want?”

“Water is fine,” Lotor said, and against every instinct in his body, he did as Keith requested and took a seat on the sofa.

Nyx did not remove her eyes from him all night.

**\- - -**

After what Lotor was content to called  _the Nyx incident_ , he did his level best to get Keith to agree to outings outside his home. More often than not, he agreed; they ate at restaurant, visited museums and movie theaters. These outings were wondrous in more ways than one; the world had changed  _so much_ in the hundred years Lotor had been dormant, and so for him, everything was new.

Yet the same could not be said for Keith, who repeatedly invited Lotor back to his place, and with enough frequency that Lotor found it difficult to create excuses to say no. At the least, Nyx had not once tried to attack him; she always watched him, but she never so much as growled. Even so, Lotor kept an eye on her, enough so that the question Keith asked one night caught him off-guard.

“How long can you stay?”

“Sorry?” Lotor turned back, and found that Nyx wasn’t the only one who had decided to fix him with a piercing stare.

“How long can you stay?” Keith asked, and then gestured to Lotor. “Like this, I mean.”

Lotor’s heart kicked up a fierce beat; a cold flush broke out over his skin. “Like . . . what?”

Keith frowned, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He leaned closer, closing the gap between them on the sofa, as he reached an arm over Lotor’s shoulders.

“Like . . .  _this_ ,” he whispered, and his fingers brushed the tip of one of Lotor’s tails, just beneath the collar of his shirt.

Lotor leaped back, his every nerve feeling like it was electrified.

“Sorry,” Keith said, and he settled back into the position he had before. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Is it sensitive?”

“Not . . . exactly,” Lotor said, and he glanced at Nyx, who was sitting up straighter now. She didn’t seem primed to attack yet, however . . . “How . . . did you know?”

Keith gave him a flat look. “I read the  _katakana_ on your shrine years ago. I’m  _twenty_ -two, not two. You didn’t even bother to change your name.” He paused, his eyes flicking to the top of Lotor’s head, then added, “And your hair’s the same color as your fur.”

“You saw me?”

“Years ago. In the trees.”

As this information settled in his mind, a fraction of the tension left Lotor’s shoulders. He let the silence between them rest a moment before he asked, “You aren’t bothered?”

“Why should I be?” Keith shrugged, and looked down at the sofa cushion, drawing his fingers along the fabric. “You’re not the only one who’s different.”

“. . . ‘Different,’” Lotor repeated. They were quiet once more, Keith drawing a design into the sofa cushion with his fingernail, and Lotor watching him do it.  _Different_ , Keith said, as if being a mixed-race orphan was anywhere near on the same scale as being a guardian fox spirit.

Before he could help himself, Lotor burst out laughing.

“What?” Keith said, his eyes snapping up. Lotor tried to answer—he did—but all he succeeded in doing was laughing harder. Keith frowned. “Hey.”

“Nothing,” Lotor managed at last, and he smiled as he leaned against the back of the sofa, his cheek braced against his fingers. “It’s only that—of all the humans who could have found my shrine, Keith, I am very glad that it was you.”

Keith blinked, taken aback, before he looked away again. He rubbed his fingers together—fidgeting, as a bit of color rose in his cheeks (Lotor couldn’t help but smile harder at the sight). “Yeah, well.”

His eyes darted to Lotor’s face, his teeth chewing the inside of his cheek. Then, moving swiftly as if to act before he second-guessed himself, he leaned over and pressed their lips together. He held the kiss for a moment—one long, lasting moment—before he drew back, and for the first time in his centuries of life, Lotor could not think of a single thing to say as he stared at Keith.

“Same here,” Keith said.

 


End file.
